r Sam?"

He was a small, fussy man, with red whiskers; and even his sorrow
gave him little dignity. The men were tender with him.

"Nothing to be done till the tide goes back."

"But you won't leave en? Say you won't leave en! He've a wife and
three children. He was a saved man, sir, a very religious man; not
like me, sir. He was highly respected in the neighbourhood of
St. Austell. I shouldn't wonder if the newspapers had a word
about en . . ." The tears were running down his face.

"We must wait for the tide," said Taffy gently, and tried to lead him
away, but he would not go. So they left him to watch and wait while
they returned to their work.

Before noon they recovered and fixed the broken wire cable. The iron
cradle had disappeared, but to rig up a sling and carry out an
endless line was no difficult job, and when this was done Taffy
crossed over to the island rock and began to inspect damages.
His working gear had suffered heavily, two of his windlasses were
disabled, scaffolding, platforms, hods, and loose planks had
vanished; a few small tools only remained, mixed together in a mash
of puddled lime. But the masonry stood unhurt, all except a few feet
of the upper course on the seaward side, where the gale, giving the
cement no time to set, had shaken the dove-tailed stones in their
sockets--a matter easily repaired.

Shortly before three a shout recalled them to the mainland. The tide
was drawing towards low water, and three of the men set to work at
once to open a channel and drain off the pool about the base of the
big rock. While this was doing, half a dozen splashed in with iron
bars and pickaxes; the rest rigged two stout ropes with tackles, and
hauled. The stone did not budge. For more than an hour they prised
and levered and strained. And all the while the sailor ran to and
fro, snatching up now a pick and now a crowbar, now lending a hand to
haul, and again breaking off to lament aloud.

The tide turned, the winter dark came down, and at half-past four
Taffy gave the word to desist. They had to hold back the sailor, or
he would have jumped in and drowned beside his brother.

Taffy slept little that night, though he needed sleep. The salving
of this body had become almost a personal dispute between the sea and
him. The gale had shattered two of his windlasses; but two remained,
and by one o'clock next day he had both slung over to the mainland
and fixed beside the rock. The